


The One with the AU

by Mamajo



Series: Tumblr Shorts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:57:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamajo/pseuds/Mamajo
Summary: But what if Harry Potter had been an ordinary boy? Born to parents who fought in the war, who died trying to protect each other, and left him an orphan? What if he was raisend in an orphanage with other heart broken children who just missed their parents, who had died for principles children didn't want to understand, they just wanted their parents back?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I woke this morning at 5am, story almost fully formed, thoughts going in angsty directions and went - well, why not share the fun :D?

But what if Harry Potter had been an ordinary boy? Born to parents who fought in the war, who died trying to protect each other, and left him an orphan? What if he was raisend in an orphanage with other heart broken children who just missed their parents, who had died for principles children didn't want to understand, they just wanted their parents back? And what if that orphanage was an ordinary orphanage, like all the other ones?  
Except for the tiny basement with the secret staircase nobody was suppossed to talk about? What if he went to school like any other kid in his street, learned about math and religion and how to spell philosophy. And if the occassional accidental magic happened? Like the exploding lights and moving furniture when he was upset or excited? He learned about magic at the knees of the caretakers at the orphanage in said tiny room in the basement, listening with rapt attention, like all the other children who lived with him. And the caretakers did their best to teach them about levitation and potions and, most importantly, how to heal. Because there was no more Hogwarts. There was no more Good.

Where there was suppossed to be a school, a grand castle with moving stair cases (crumbled to dust) and pictures that talked to you (forever destroyed), and laughter in the halls (empty oh so empty), and an overflowing headmaster's office (deserted like all the other teacher rooms) there was a burned out husk, part of a crater right in the middle of the Scottish Highlands. Only the Forbidden Forrest knew about the battle that raged there for days, about the fires that never quite reached its borders, held back by an invisible barrier, that had been there to protect the castle's inhabitants, not hinder them from leaving, but there to keep evil out.  
Only the Forbidden Forrest remembered the screams. Only the Forbidden Forrest knew how many survived. And how many didn't. There had been a rush to escape right at the end, stampeding feet, claws, hooves, anything that was able to move, looking for refuge in its wild depths. And the Forbidden Forrest welcomed all, for it knew no distinction between evil and good, and the screams went on for days more.

So you see, where else were these children to hear about their magics and history than in an orphanage, while the Ministry became engrossed with backstabbing and fear, ruled by the iron fist of the Dark Lord and his cronies? The last thing on those minds was the organised education of potential opposition. And if they knew? If they knew about those secret lessons in basements and middle of the night classes over bubbling cauldrons? There would have been no more orphanage. So shhh. Look around corners before you speak about hippogryphs and amorantias.

And Harry? Harry learned and listened and went to college, like all the other kids in his street and looked both ways before he crossed the street. At least until that day at the local city council meeting about the frog pond over on Hannover Street. When sudden explosions rocked the foundation and panic made people blind to sticks that spewed fire and death. But Harry saw. 

Saw for the first time with his own eyes how destruction worked, and how indiscriminately it was wielded. Heard his own panicked breath, felt his racing heartbeat as he scrambled frantically at the window latch in the adjacent room, where he had just moments before been quietly transcribing spoken words into coherent sentences to include into todays meeting's protocol. Under his trembling fingers the latch finally opened to the lawn just a few metres underneath him, and Harry didn't hesitate to jump. His knees gave an angry twinge when his feet collided with earth, but that wasn't important right then. Important was the path at the end of the fence, that lead right into the city with it's myriad of hiding spots and Underground entrances to everywhere. Sirens wailed in the distance, their too-late-too-late mocking his sheer terror to flee, to hide, to still his thoughts. Harry ran. 

But not for long, for the hands of Evil are made of claws and fear and strength.


End file.
